


bad habits

by burninmatches



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, friends to fuckers to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29099880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burninmatches/pseuds/burninmatches
Summary: steve and you have to deal with your bad habits - you’re need for his attention and his need for control. enemies to fuckers to lovers. SMUT, 18+: mutual masturbation, fingering, protected vaginal sex, dirty talk, a bit of cockwarming. oh, also: not proof read.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Kudos: 57





	bad habits

**Author's Note:**

> hey babies! this one is the first one shot i wrote in a while. i would really appreciate the feedback, esp considering that my writing style is chancing a bit (?). please enjoy and let me know what you think <3

“What exactly d’you think you’re doin’, sweetheart?”

His voice is low, warm breath fanning against your ear, causing a shiver to travel down your spine. Your lips twist in malicious smirk as your eyes lit up, sparkling with a naughty flame. Steve’s baby blues search for a response, any sort of regret or distress. No, not today Rogers.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Captain.” Your voice sounds completely oblivious; ready to take whatever he could give you. Innocence drips from the corner of your mouth as you taste his title on the tip of your tongue, savoring every second of it.

For an outsider perspective, the conversation you hold with him is nothing but pleasant. Good O’ Captain American, making small talk with one of his fellow teammates. Sweet _____, all smiles and graciousness, chatting friendly with her leader.

You knew exactly what you were doing when you chose to wear this specific dress tonight: a bit shorter than usual, showing more skin than you’re used to. The silky material hugged your curves in all the right places, glimmering divinely against the lights. Steve knew he was gone from the second he saw you coming down the stairs – you arrived with a gracious 15 minutes of delay, but considering all the work you (or a professional, Steve guessed) put on your hair and make-up, he had to excuse your impoliteness as simply being fashionably late.

Steve and you aren’t exactly friends – no, not even acquaintances. Captain Rogers has always despised your nature, ever since day one. The young, bratty ____ who always got what she wanted – such nature, however, was something that only your teammates could see on a daily basis. Well, that’s one of the many collateral effects of being Tony Stark’s goddaughter.

“Listen, I don’t know what your plan is, but it’s not gonna work.” He states, a little too confidently. If Rogers was any more bewildered by the way you were acting, smoke would be leaving his ears.

“I always get what I want, Cap.” You wink discretely, careful so that others wouldn’t witness your actions.

Flashing him your pearly whites shortly before fleeing the scene, you leave him breathless and slightly bothered, as he watches your figure moving gracefully. You move like a goddess, making your way towards Natasha and Wanda, who were chatting on the other side of the ballroom.

The first time Steve fucked you happened in the bliss driven moment of a post-successful-mission-glory. A thin sheet of sweat covered your body, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The blond man silently cursed whoever designed your suit, taking the temptation as a personal offence. The quinjet felt like a furnace, the two of you trapped in a living, personal hell: each other’s presence.

“What?” You snapped, catching him staring you, eyeing you closely.

Steve simply rolled his eyes in response. That’s what you hated the most about him: his lack of reaction. Your real problem was that he never gave you enough devotion, never treated you as an equal teammate – whatever you tried to pull off in order to catch his attention, it was pointless. You ended up becoming Tony’s protégé for a reason.

“Cat got your tongue, Stevie?” The mocking nickname rolled off your tongue like butter, loving the way it’d (most likely) piss him off. Again, the blond did not fall for your tricks. Your eyes lit up, engines working quickly inside your head.

“Don’t ya get tired of being a drill sergeant all the time?” You ask. “Y’know, you used to be my favorite Avenger back in high school, when I learned all about you in history class” Your voice is sultry, and the emphasis on the word “all” doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 

The image of a teenager version of you appeared as clear as day in his head: probably spoiled and more challenging than you are now – he genuinely pitied whoever had to take care of you during such phase. The teasing goes on for a few more minutes, as your blood boiled in anticipation – again, whatever it took to get his attention. Psychologically torturing powerful man is way more fun than it sounds.

“I swear to God, ____.” He held an accusatory index finger up, dark blue eyes meeting yours. You didn’t realize how close he was – and you’ve never seen him like this: bothered, finally. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll have to make you…”

“I’d love to see you try.”

Needless to say, a couple of moments later, he taught you proper manners.

Just after Wanda crossed the room in order to get the three of you something to drink, Natasha spoke, with a devil-red smirk playing on her lips:

“How did he react?”

The once Russian spy was the only person on the team who happened to be clever enough to notice how your dynamic with Steve… changed after said mission. Well, and Wanda reads minds. The three of you have been glued by this secret affair since then.

“Exactly the way I wanted him to.” You state simply, as if it was the most evident thing in the world – the redhead doesn’t miss the proud smile that bloomed on your lips.

Steve’s gaze burns on your neck as your godfather introduces you to yet another important politician – or CEO, you don’t remember quite well. All you’re able to think about is making America’s Golden Boy crumble – and God, you need it so bad.

“The pleasure is mine.” You reply politely, shaking another shriveled white hand while thinking about Rogers’ eyes on you.

“Every single man in this room is eye-fucking you right now, d’you know that?” The blond approaches you shortly after you escape from your godfather’s encirclement, rolling your eyes in annoyance of having such a short-lived freedom in a never ending fancy party.

His angry, whispered words light a fire inside you – there was only one thing on Earth better than having Steve to yourself: sparkling a reaction from America’s strongest soldier. Whenever you got on each other’s nerves, a cold war started – one that would never have a winner, and you knew that.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” You ask, batting your longer-than-necessary falsies. The fact that Steve had the nerve to act like you owed him anything was sending bubbles of anger through your blood. “You have some admirers yourself, Captain.”

Your eyes subtly move across the room, falling upon a certain blonde you wholeheartedly disliked. Sharon Carter.

Now, it wasn’t anything personal – it was just the way she played with her hair whenever she talked to Steve, the way she always finds an excuse to be all over him and-

The way he always gives her attention.

“That’s what this is all about?” Steve inquires, finally understanding your current mood and why you’ve been ignoring his presence ever since you’ve arrived. “Sharon? Really?”

You take yet another sip of bubbly, finishing the sparkly liquid, eyeing him again.

Still, no response.

Being completely honest, Rogers has been pushing you in the wrong way throughout the whole week with little, petty things – the fact that Sharon couldn’t keep her hands to herself was merely a bonus.

“You’re jealous?” He tries again, sounding a bit more entertained – and he was, really: he could get drunk on the effect he had on you. Nothing would ever intoxicate him more than igniting the fire he knows you have deep in your soul.

“No!” You exclaim, a bit loudly, attracting a few odd looks from passers – which you dismiss with a light shrug and a polite smile. The lie tastes like poison on your tongue: you didn’t have room to feel jealous or enraged; given the fact you were simply… fuck buddies? You don’t even know which title you possess in his life, which stings a bit.

“I just think it’s quite odd you expect me to behave when you’re doing the exact fucking opposite.” You state simply through whispered words, avoiding the rude question – your perfectly manicured hand reaches for another glass of champagne from the nearest waiter, and soon you feel the bubbles travelling through your veins once again.

Resisting the urge to take your high heels off, you sigh, wondering where were all the limousines Stark had rented for your ride back – it wouldn’t be your go-to type of ride, however you were in no place of complaining: Steve and you were one of the only remaining people waiting in the busy street. You would appreciate the city lights under different circumstances – perhaps even take a casual picture – however the moment calls for what you like to call avoiding-Steve-until-he-crawls-back-to-you.

As if you weren’t lucky enough to be stuck with the one person you don’t want to spend a second with, suddenly a couple of cold, fat drops fall on your naked shoulder.

“No.” You whisper to yourself, touching the wet spot, hoping desperately that it was all just a bad dream. Quickly, the drops multiplied and you became a shriveling mess before you knew it. Before you had the chance to complain, though, a pair of strong hands placed a dark suit jacket on your naked shoulders.

You didn’t have to look around in order to find out who was the author of such gentle crime, yet you turned on your heels anyway. A familiar pair of baby blues, with a peculiar mixture of concern and yearning, was looking right back at you.

While you adjust yourself on the expensive leather seat, you wonder if the words that left Steve’s lips hours ago were coming from a place of genuine incredulously – or if it was yet another one of his charming tricks. Reasonably, you know that Sharon doesn’t mean anything to him – well, not anymore: you’ve overheard Sam talking to Bucky about how Steve hasn’t made a comment about any girl for almost six months. What happened six months ago? Oh, right: the quinjet incident.

Your mind feels foggy, though. You can’t stop thinking about the way she placed her palms on his torso while talking to him. The way he questioned you about how you were acting, the way he asked if it was about Sharon and-

The way he called her Sharon and not Agent Carter.

The ride back home was anything but comfortable. All you could concentrate on was how your pointy nails tapped your phone while you texted Natasha about his questions and cursing them in three different languages for leaving you behind with him while you were in the washroom.

When you arrive at the compound, you throw the suit jacket at Steve before exiting the vehicle a little too quickly, not caring about the pouring rain and how it was ruining your look. With your fancy shoes in one hand and handbag in the other, you walk rapidly though the hallways, not bothering to look back. You know Steve isn’t far behind, however seeing his face once again was the last thing you wanted at the moment.

Rogers would rather be caught dead than admit it, however you were correct: you always get what you want – whenever and however you want it, in case he needs to be more specific.

Oh, did you happen to want his attention so badly? You got it.

He has a weird feeling that, in case you want to see him jumping off a cliff for your own entertainment and amusement, he’d gladly do it – without thinking twice, actually.

His black shoes click against the marble floor as he follows the trail of tiny wet patches, indicating your way towards your room. Shortly before knocking on the door, Steve undoes the tie around his neck, sighing.

Before he could knock once again, you answer him, doe eyed and pouty.

Steve doesn’t know where to begin or what to say – who would’ve thought, huh? You were the one to make Captain America become a speechless, confused mess.

“I’m glad you’re here, I wouldn’t be able to unzip this by myself.” You break the silence with words that flew out of your mouth before you could register the, as your hands motion towards the back of the dress.

The man enters your room, a little too slowly, testing the waters – sure, someone could see him paying you a nightly visit, but that didn’t cross his mind. He closes the door behind him, shutting it quietly.

“So, are you gonna help me or what?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course-”

His dominant hand finds the zipper, undoing it slowly, leaving goose bumps on your skin as the cool air softly hits it. Steve inhaled sharply as your dress hit the floor, creating a metallic puddle around your ankles. 

“So,” You start, taking a few bobby pins (that were decorated with rhinestones) of your wet hair “why are you here?”

Steve barely hears you, and you excuse his impoliteness as shock instead of rudeness – he was quite distracted with the view of your bare body in front of him. 

You never got an answer – not in form of words, anyway. His strong hands grip your hips, bringing you towards his larger frame, hungrily connecting your lips. Your tongues slide against each other, hands tangled in each other’s hair as you messily make your way towards the bed.

His calloused palms explore your soft skin, slowly, leaving the ghost of goose bumps behind. In over 100 years, Steve Rogers can comfortably claim that you are the most beautiful, magical and gracious creature he has ever seen. Perhaps the uneasy feeling he seems to get whenever he’s near you isn’t detestation, after all. 

“Steve…” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you part the kiss, doe eyes looking into his blue ones intensely. He eyes you curiously, however the moment is short-lived: whatever you had to ask or say got lost in the moment as you accidentally brush your thigh against the erection poking through his pants, causing the man to moan lowly.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He whispers before connecting your lips together once again.

Your fingers find the buttons of his white silky shirt, undoing them rapidly – and quite clumsily – as he kisses your neck. As he nibs at the soft skin, you feel a delicious sting on your soft spot.

“S-Steve,” You purr his name, hands gripping at his hair a bit tightly. “you’re leaving marks.”

A wave of confusion hits you, driving you away from the momentary bliss. The silent agreement of not leaving marks on each other, after countless rendezvous and escapes was finally being broken.

“Yeah?” He asks, cockily. “I don’t care if anyone see’s it.”

His pale eyes are glued on yours, watching you’re every reaction closely. It felt like he was an ambitious scientist, studying his object’s every move. He completes:

“I don’t care if they find out you’re my girl.”

“Steve…” You whisper, sitting up a bit.

“I know you’re mine and you know I’m yours. What’s the point in hiding?”

Your heart skips a beat as your eyebrows rise, slowly, and you stay silent for a few moments – which drives him insane. You consider reminding him that, in fact, you’re not sure he’s yours. The fact that you belong to him – and he knows it – it’s more than obvious. Instead of answering his rhetorical question through words, you simply kiss him again: this time it’s hungrier, needier, more passionate than you’ve ever felt.

Rogers’ clothes are gone in a matter of seconds: your fingertips travel against his muscles, exploring his body as if it was the first time. At this point, it’s hard to tell where you end and he begins.

His dominant hand softly caresses the inside of your thighs, not getting close to where you need him the most. Such teasing action makes you want to through a fit, lose the remaining composure you had – however, before you’re able to tease him back, his fingers give in to your body language. The pad of his thumb brushes softly against your sensitive bundle, causing you to gasp loudly.

“Steve, Steve, please!” You cry out, gripping on the white sheets. Your hips move against his hand, needing a fraction of movement – anything to cease the fire between your legs.

“Tell me, angel, who do you belong to?”

“You, Cap!” Your whiny tone feels like music to his ears, which causes a lazy grin to bloom on his lips. It took you a few nightly visits to use such title against him – when you found out the effect it has on him, however, you never stopped.

Steve moves towards your core, gripping your thighs as he does so. A part of you wants to whine again and beg for whatever he could give you, but you stay quiet once again. Rogers stays still for a few seconds, taking you in, while your pussy clenches around nothing – you were truly desperate for him to fill you.

“Please.”

Your broken voice awakes him from the trance and he waits no time in burying his face between your legs. Silently, you thank the Gods above for soundproof walls: the way you’re moaning, screaming for him would surely awake half of the compound if such magic walls didn’t exist.

Your brain short-circuits, overwhelmed with pleasure: the mixture of his fingers and mouth was heavenly and evil at the same time. Waves of pleasure travel through your body as the bubble of warmth gets bigger and bigger in your lower abdomen. His lips move skillfully against your clit, causing you to see stars.

“Oh my god, oh my god.”

A thread of curses falls from your lips when Steve has the audacity to stop right before the bubble bursts. Steve, unfortunately, had a bad habit when it came to teasing you – secretly, however, you loved every second of it.

A few moments pass before his fingers return to your pussy, pumping in and out, while his mouth found your nipples. You’re almost overcome with bliss – almost.

Your hand finds his cock, thumb making round movements against the angry red tip. Steve moans against you, biting your sensitive bud a bit hard. You cry out as your other hand finds his hair, pulling it. The mutual pleasure that the both of you share would be enough to make him come undone under your touch, as you moan and beg for him.

Steve grins when you through your head back into the soft pillow, a clear indication that you were close – which causes him to stop, once again.

“Rogers, I swear to-”

“D’you want my cock or not, sweetheart?”

His words make you gulp, words getting lost in your throat before you could finish the empty threat. Steve cups your cheeks with his hands, looking deep into your eyes – such action causes you to switch your bratty mood quite swiftly. Silently, your hand clumsily reaches for the nightstand next to you, in order to fish a condom inside the drawer (and escape from his intimate touch). 

The man lets out a husky laugh in amusement – one minute you’re begging for him and the other you can’t bare his full attention on you. Steve reaches for the open drawer your dominant hand was currently tapping, blindly. In a swift move, he finds the rubber: while he attempts to open said protection, your middle finger finds your clit, moving in circles.

Steve eyes as if you just committed an unforgivable crime – and, in his defense, maybe you did: your movements stop as soon as you understand his look.

He’s the only one allowed to pleasure you.

“Sorry.”

You whisper, voice small: his face is near yours now, protected erection teasing your entrance. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to look at him: nothing compares to witnessing you fall apart underneath him.

“Please Steve, please”

Tears threaten their way out of your eyes, getting stuck on your eyelashes – yet, he’s not done teasing you. His thumb presses against your swollen lips when he asks:

“Are you mine?”

You don’t waste a second thinking about the answer, which is nothing but a whispered yes. Steve considers the action to be enough, considering you’re shaking a whining under him.

Pushing his cock inside of you, he groans lowly against your neck. Your hands grip his blond locks, pulling them – just the way he likes it. His thick cock stretched your pussy in a delightful way, causing you to cry out in pleasure. His hips rolled against yours, creating a steady rhythm – not too slow and not too fast, the perfect mixture of passion and neediness. Nothing on this universe would be able to top the feeling of having Steve inside of you, stretching your walls so deliciously.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good.” His tone is broken, lost in the momentary bliss. “You’re pussy’s so tight, baby.”

Such words falling from Captain America’s lips never fail to amuse you – the fact that you’re the only one to hear such foul sayings makes it even more precious.

You’re not able to answer him, though, given the fact you’re now nothing but a babbling mess under him. The bubble of warmth on your abdomen grows, and he doesn’t fail to notice.

“C’mon, c’mon,” His thumb finds your clit, making circling motions. “I got ya sweetheart, let go.”

And you do. The earth stops on its axis as you come undone – and Steve doesn’t fail on following you – as your toes curl and you silently scream. He finishes with a low moan against your lips, sweaty foreheads glued against each other.

“What am I gonna do with you, princess?” Steve asks as soon as he comes down from his high, still inside of you.

“Whatever you want to, Captain.”


End file.
